


Band AU (Sorry My Titles Are So Lame)

by 67ChevyGazelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Language, M/M, More Fluff, band au, punk!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1844692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/67ChevyGazelle/pseuds/67ChevyGazelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, Charlie, and Jo go see their favorite band, Heavenly Host. Events ensue, fluff happens, and hopefully everybody stays in character like I want them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are we there yet?” Jo complained from the backseat. Charlie laughed and Dean rolled his eyes before answering,

“We’ve been in the car for twelve minutes.”

“Play the album - we’ve gotta know all the lyrics for tonight!” Dean rummaged for the CD in the Impala’s glove compartment, much to Sam’s annoyance (‘Keep your eyes on the goddamn road, you’re gonna get us killed!’) and came up with Heavenly Host’s most recent album, Nephilim. A collective cheer rose from the backseat, and Sam rolled his eyes (though they all knew that he loved the band just as much as the rest of them).

Dean had discovered Heavenly Host when he’d first introduced Charlie to Jo. Jo had been wearing a t-shirt from HH’s first tour, and when Charlie saw it she began wildly gesticulating and screeching at Jo (who, despite being mildly terrified at first, had soon after joined in her ecstatic display). Needless to say, the two had become fast friends, and then insisted that Dean listen to the band’s first two albums, Salvation Of A Righteous Man and War-Torn Heaven. Dean surprised himself first when he found that he adored the band (he generally didn’t listen to current music; he preferred to stick to his Dad’s old cassette tape collection), and again when he found himself monitoring events surrounding the band members online. Jo and Charlie had shown him interviews on YouTube, and they’d discovered Gabe (the lead singer’s) vlog together and spent hours watching him goof around and make stupid puns with the rest of the band. Sam called them fangirls and teased them mercilessly about their obsession, but Dean saw HH Fan Sites in his internet history and knew that Sam was just as obsessed as the rest of them. When Nephilim was released, they pre-ordered the CD and listened to it together; later, when Charlie scored tickets (possibly by hacking a radio station’s server...she would admit to nothing) to an underground concert just forty five minutes away in Kansas City, they’d piled into the Impala and headed out.

Now they were a half hour out from the concert, and they were all preposterously excited about finally seeing their favorite band live.

\- - -

The blue-tinted backstage lights refracted strangely in the row of mirrors, before which the members of Heavenly Host sat. A makeup artist and a hair stylist darted from chair to chair, touching up eyeliner and combing gel into hair. This was Castiel’s least favorite part of being a performer - he didn’t like how fake the layers of makeup made him feel. Cas hated feeling fake; feeling like he was masquerading as something he wasn’t, only doing things because they were part of the role he was playing, not because he wanted to or believed in doing them. He’d said that to Gabriel once, and he'd laughed. Gabe was so confident; he didn’t understand how hard it was to defy what was expected of you, to detach yourself from what people think you are. Cas wished he could have his brother’s self-assurance.

Cas turned his head (much to the annoyance of the woman trying to exaggerate the blue streaks in his hair) and looked at his brothers. Gabe was on his immediate right, watching something on his phone as the makeup artist brushed powder across his cheeks. He snickered from time to time at the screen, and when he noticed Cas looking at him he raised his eyebrows (and somehow clearly acknowledged Cas’ displeasure at being made up and conveyed words of encouragement to him), but said nothing. Cas half-smiled back at his brother, who promptly returned his attention to the video.

On Gabriel’s right sat Luci, feet propped up on the vanity in front of him and unplugged electric guitar in hand. He ran his fingers up and down various scales, occasionally pausing to check a note’s tuning. His spiked hair appeared especially sharp in the unusual lighting, looking to Cas like a barbed wire halo; a crown of thorns.

Next to Lucifer, Balthazar talked at the stylists, loudly expressing his own opinions (which most often directly contradicted those of everyone else) on anything and everything. He grinned when he saw Cas looking at him and said, “Excited for the show, brother?” Cas nodded in reply. Baz then began complaining about the depth of his v-neck t-shirt, and Cas moved his gaze to the end of the line of chairs, where Michael sat. He tapped a singular drumstick against his knee, earbuds in and eyes closed. As Cas watched, Balthazar turned to Michael to begin dissecting his outfit, but Michael deflected Baz’s criticism with a glare. Baz rolled his eyes, muttering something to a nearby sound technician about stuck-up pricks being too good for the rest of the band. Gabe laughed and Luci smirked as Balthazar’s commentary continued, and Michael reached up to pull his earbuds out and argue back at them.

Cas directed his attention to his feet before he could be dragged into the argument he could feel beginning. Fortunately, Chuck walked in before things could get too heated, the papers on his clipboard flapping like angered pigeons. “Guys, you’re on in-” Chuck glanced at his watch and ran a hand through his already thoroughly disheveled hair. “twenty four minutes. I…” Chuck continued talking, though Cas didn’t pay attention to the band’s frazzled manager. He was too busy thinking about the fight that had almost been, and how many almost-fights had occurred in the past week alone.

Cas’ musing was interrupted by the woman who’d been arranging his hair, “There you go, hon, all done.”

Cas examined himself in the mirror in front of him. The blue in his hair looked nice; it was much more prominent than usual. He turned to thank the stylist, but she’d gone. He looked back into the mirror. The bead of metal in his eyebrow glinted, catching the light. He ran a few fingers over the shaved-off stubble that covered half of the left side of his head, then rubbed the back of his neck. He hoped tonight’s performance would go over smoothly; he had a bad feeling that it would not.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Heavenly Host was a slightly-punk, mostly-rock band from Illinois. Its five members were brothers, all around Dean’s age. Their lead singer was Gabriel, the band’s established trickster and general source of stupid jokes and sexual innuendo. Half of his vlog consisted of videos of the incredibly complex pranks he pulled on his siblings, a few of which Dean had tried to replicate (unsuccessfully) with Sam. Michael, the oldest brother, was the drummer. He was notoriously moody and his resentment of Gabe as the band’s frontman was well-known. Then there was Lucifer (or Luci, for short), the lead guitarist, who Charlie referred to as the band’s ‘resident bad boy’. Whenever she said this, Jo would point out that all the band members were ‘bad boys’, pierced and tattooed as they were. The girls would then proceed to engage in friendly argument over which of the badasses was the badass-est, and whether appearance alone could dictate badassery. Personally, Dean agreed with Charlie; Luci was reckless and loud; not the sort who’d jump off a bridge if his friends were doing it, but the sort who’d jump off a bridge and encourage his friends to follow. Baz (whose full name was Balthazar - Dean figured the boys’ parents must have been crazy religious, with names like theirs), the bassist, was renowned for his sass (which, Charlie joked, was rivaled only by Sam’s) and had a reputation for flamboyancy. And then there was Cas.

Cas - Castiel - played rhythm guitar and wrote almost all of HH’s incredible lyrics, which were probably Dean’s favorite thing about the band. He had dark hair and blue eyes and Dean had an enormous crush on him, though he tried not to make that too evident around his brother and friends. Hell, he was hesitant to admit the extent of his crush even to himself. Dean was more than a little bit embarrassed at how strong the attraction he felt to Castiel was, especially since he’d never actually met the guy. He was also embarrassed by the wild scenarios that kept drifting into his head as he drove the Impala down the highway, all of which were variations of him meeting Cas by chance and obtaining his phone number. Dean was in the middle of a particularly creative one of those fantasies when he was jerked back into the moment by Sam’s yell of, “Dean, that’s our exit!” The Impala swerved recklessly and Dean heard an angry honk from the car behind them. “Christ, Dean, pay attention!”

“Shuttup.” Sam made a face, but Dean ignored him. He rolled down his window in an attempt to hasten the fading of the blush receding from his cheeks, and glanced at the clock. It was 7:43. The concert started at eight; they’d be there right on time. Dean took a deep breath and cleared his head of all thoughts of Castiel. Nephilim was still playing, and Dean turned up the volume as ‘Apocalyptic Paradise’ began piping through the speakers. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as the car entered Kansas City. He settled back into the seat, relaxing...but as soon as he allowed his mind to drift, Cas reappeared in his head, persistent in his distraction and consistent in his ability to render Dean completely and totally starstruck.

\- - -

As Cas struck the first chord of ‘Skeptical Prayer’, he felt the screams of the relatively small crowd before him heighten to a decibel level that he could feel resonate in his bones. ‘Skeptical Prayer’ was one of the most popular songs on Nephilim, and Cas was particularly proud of it, as he had written it without any assistance from his brothers. He grinned as Luci started in on the intro guitar riff, and he adjusted his strumming to complement the patterns that the guitar was pouring over the gentle background notes. He heard Michael tap his drumsticks together - four definitive clicks - before crashing them into the set (the stylized HH logo on the bass drum vibrating with the sound). Baz plucked out a bassline, keeping perfect time, and the four of them crescendoed before cutting off abruptly, creating a moment of total silence which Gabe allowed to hang for just a moment - and then he began to sing.

Cas was in his element. His fingers moved almost of their own volition, forming chord shapes thoughtlessly as the song progressed. He could hear the fans in the audience singing along loudly, and he reflected on how amazing it was that they were here to hear him play, that they had heard and loved the words he’d written, that they’d left their homes and lives and driven here because the music he’d created made them feel. It was incredible, empowering, beautiful - and he knew his brothers felt it too. That was why the five of them had started Heavenly Host to begin with; to bask in the feeling created when one plays music on stage. Cas knew that their shared need for the love of the masses probably stemmed from the events of their childhood; their father’s absence, their mother’s increasingly vague explanations of his whereabouts and excuses for him having left (that’s what he’d done; Cas had accepted it. Left. He’d left them, and he didn’t deserve to be looked for or invited back into their lives.) But Cas liked to keep those thoughts tucked away in a dusty storage cabinet in the far back corner of the unused basement area of his mind. That was what his brothers did, and it worked for- well, it really didn’t work for them. Cas knew that the undertones of discontent in the band were rooted in their past, but he wasn’t about to bring the subject up - they fought often enough as it was. Anyways, it had been so long since they’d all talked (really talked, about their emotions or whatever crap was troubling them), that he worried that diving into the subject now would hurt more than it would help.

The song ended on a dramatic, echoing chord and Gabe paused to catch his breath before calling, “Thank you, Kansas City!” He allowed for a period of wild applause before continuing. “And, now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: intermission!” There were scattered laughs and Gabriel chuckled to himself as a distinct scream of ‘Marry me, Gabe!’ cut through the noise of the crowd. “Take me out to dinner first.” He winked in the direction of the screamer, eliciting even louder, higher-pitched squeals. “Now, we’ll be back with the second half of our show in twenty minutes; until then, stretch your legs, get some air, wait in a mile-long line for the bathroom, buy some over-priced merchandise - enjoy yourselves, kiddos, we’ll see you all soon.”

Cas followed his brothers off the stage, smiling shyly at the crowd as he went. He felt the confidence that had sprung from the performance fading away as he walked backstage, where Chuck waited with a drink in one hand and his battered clipboard in the other. Upon entering the dressing room, Gabe collapsed into a nearby chair and Luci perched on its arm, one leg folded up underneath him. Balthazar stood in the center of the room and somehow managed to look more comfortable than either of the seated men. Michael stood as well, though he didn’t appear nearly as settled as Baz did.  Cas stood near the door, waiting for somebody else to start a conversation. Silence prevailed until Chuck said, “Okay. Um. Great job guys, you have nineteen minutes before we start the second half. You remember the setlist, right? You’re starting with ‘Salt And Burn’ and then-”

“Relax, Chucky.” Gabe smirked at the band manager as he sidled towards him, sliding an arm around his shoulder. “We’re gonna be great. Just as long as I remember all the lyrics Cas wrote us, and Luci doesn’t try crowd surfing again, and Michael doesn’t brood his way off the stage, and Balthazar remembers to keep his unpopular opinions about Leo DiCaprio to himself...” Chuck’s eyes widened at the all-too-available opportunities for disaster. He made a choked, panicky noise before half-running, half-staggering out of the room, probably to quadruple-check that the light and sound crews had everything running as planned.

“Don’t antagonize him too much, Gabriel,” Michael intoned, slipping into the bossy-oldest-brother voice that they all hated. Balthazar emitted an obvious groan, and Luci started up to defend Gabe. Cas could feel another major argument brewing and, not wanting to be pressured into taking sides like the last time this had happened, he slipped out unnoticed and headed towards the bathroom.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter only has a Dean POV because the next Cas POV got hella long and I still need to edit the second half of it...

“OH. MY. GOD.” Charlie was on her feet, vocalizing her amazement at the glorious performance she’d just witnessed. Jo sat, staring rapt at the vacated stage. “OH MY GOD!” Charlie repeated, voice rising, bright red hair swirling around her head as she turned it from the stage to her friends, and then back again. “That was the most. Beautiful. Thing. I have ever witnessed. Oh my god. I just- Oh my God!” Even Sam couldn’t hide his expression of awe at just how incredible Heavenly Host had been live. _Better_ than their recordings (which Dean hadn’t even thought possible.)

“I’m gonna go find a bathroom; any of you gotta go?” Dean wasn’t entirely sure that they’d heard him, overwhelmed by the show as they were, but after a moment of hesitation in which none of them made any indication of their intention to accompany him, Dean headed off into the crowd. The line for the bathroom was miles long, as Gabe had predicted, and there was no way in hell Dean was going to wait in it. After briefly checking for people who might stop him, Dean slipped past a sign reading ‘Employees Only Past This Point’ into the backstage area of the performance hall, looking for a less crowded restroom.

Dean walked along deserted halls, hoping that nobody would stumble upon him and assume he was attempting to sneak in and meet the band. That wasn’t what he was doing - definitely not. He just had to use the bathroom. Yup. That was it. Really. No ulterior motive. Not at all. 100% innocent, bladder-related reasons for this escapade. There was no way that Dean was going to run into any of the band members anyway, even if he was trying to. There were security guards and locked doors and besides, that sort of thing only happened in romantic comedies. The band probably-

Dean's self-assurances were interrupted as he rounded a corner and collided with someone headed in the opposite direction. He reeled backwards, and immediately began apologizing to the man sprawled on the floor before him. Dean extended a hand to pull him to his feet, and he accepted it, but not before Dean saw his face and realized exactly whom he'd stumbled upon.

"Cas?" Dean couldn't contain the exclamation, and blushed when Cas' eyes met his, attempting to identify him.

“Oh- are you- you must be a fan, right ?" Dean's blush intensified at that.

"I, um, yeah. Uh. Yes. I am. Great show so far." That elicited a small smile from Cas, which in turn elicited a flutter of _something_ in Dean's chest (which he ignored - he didn't need to make himself look like more of an idiot than he already had).

“Thank you.” Dean smiled back at him and the moment caught, snagging in time and lasting far longer than either of the men realized. It wasn’t until Dean caught himself musing over how _blue_ Cas’ eyes were that he broke the silence, asking,

“Hey, is there a bathroom I can use back here somewhere?” Cas blinked a few times, like he was shaking off a particularly vivid daydream (which was exactly what he was doing), then replied,

“Right around that corner, oh- uh- I don’t know your name.”

“Dean.” He extended a hand, which Cas shook after a brief moment of hesitation in which Dean thought Cas’ eyes may have lingered on his lips. But that was- just - no. He was over-analyzing this.

“Nice to meet you, Dean. Uh- there’s a signing- um, were you planning to stay for the meet-and-greet thing after the show?” Wait, what? Was he- no. Probably just small talk. But why would he- “If you were, um,” It was hard to tell under the layers of stage makeup, but Dean thought he could see a blush flaring up across Cas’ cheeks. “If you were planning on staying, you should, er- we’re doing photos. Um. You could meet my brothers and uh, bring your friends. If you came with friends. It’s not a big thing, but, um-” Dean cut off Cas’ rambling.

“Awesome. I’ll see you there.” Cas grinned, and Dean replied in kind. “See you later,” he said, ambling off towards the restroom. Dean felt his smile widen as he turned his back on Cas. Heavenly Host’s rhythm guitarist - his _celebrity crush_ (he’d given up on denying it to himself - what was the point?) - had just tried to flirt with him. And gotten adorably flustered. And he’d flirted _back_. And they’d met backstage in the most beautifully clichè, unrealistic way possible. And they were going to see each other again. Soon. Tonight. _Awesome_.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Cas' POV. The next one will also be from Cas' POV, and I'll post it as soon as I've had it edited! Sorry this took so long...I've been enjoying the start of summer by waking up at noon and not doing anything at all. Enjoy!

Cas stood in the hallway, listening to Dean’s footsteps as they moved away from him, down the hall and around the corner. He heard the door - presumably to the bathroom - swing open and closed. Brotherly angst momentarily forgotten, Cas allowed himself a moment to just stand in the vacant hallway and appreciate freckles and stubble and shy crow’s feet that only appear during smiles. Smiles. He’d made him smile. Even though he’d made up the meet-and-greet...but it’d be okay, wouldn’t it? Cas was fairly sure he’d be okay with anything if it meant getting to see that _smile_.

But had it been a genuine smile? For him? Cas knew he was terrible at flirting; the guy had probably thought he was an idiot - or worse, that he was trying to get rid of him. Oh god. There was no way that had happened the way Cas hoped it had. And he was gonna show up for the meet-and-greet and expect other people to be there and oh god it was going to be so awful to have to explain himself in front of his brothers...

The return of Cas’ panic pushed him into the realization that the bathroom he’d just directed Dean to was the one he’d been planning to hide out in until his brothers finished fighting. And he certainly wasn’t going to follow Dean in there - especially not now that he’d convinced himself that Dean probably just liked his music (if that - maybe he just came here because his friends wanted to, or his - oh god - what if he had a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? There was no way he was into Cas, no _way_ , ugh, he’d just humiliated himself so badly, and the ‘meet-and-greet’ was just going to make everything worse…) Cas turned a few corners until he found a hallway he didn’t recognize, then sank to the floor, allowing the uncomfortable, doubtful thoughts he repressed during the majority of his waking hours sweep over him - or, more accurately, sweep him over, brushing him into a metaphorical corner as they took total precedence over everything else.

Cas felt...he didn’t even _know_ what he felt. And the fact of him not quite knowing made the whatever-it-was worse. He was terrified, though he wasn’t sure of what, and at the same time, he didn’t care about anything, even though he _wanted_ so badly to care...it was impossible to describe and even impossible-er to endure and Cas just couldn’t fathom why _he_ was the one having to endure it. He couldn’t help but wonder if his brothers ever felt the same way, but he knew he couldn’t ask them (no matter how much he wanted to). He was endlessly conflicted; did everybody feel like this, or was he an exception? Was he doing something wrong? Did he even have the right to worry about himself when there were people starving and dying with no place to sleep who weren’t almost-famous band members on tour, who didn’t have fans and money and four different guitars…Cas felt incredibly _guilty_ for feeling discontent with his life. He had it so good; why was he falling apart? He was weak...that was the only conceivable answer. Pathetic. He didn’t deserve what he had.

Cas took deep breaths in his dimly lit hallway, withstanding waves of worry as they crashed over him. His anxiety eventually subsided, like the tide receding from a dampened shoreline. Cas knew that, in time, the water would rush back in. It always did. He quietly composed himself and got to his feet, adjusting his clothes. As he calmed down, Cas imagined building a sandcastle; fragile walls to hold back the onslaught of unwanted thoughts and feelings. They’d hold for the time being - they had to. He had a show to put on. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All righty, this one starts with a continuation of the last Cas POV and ends with a really short Dean POV. This might be the last update I post for a bit - I'm leaving for a three-week summer camp tomorrow! But have no fear; I'm definitely planning on finishing this, hopefully before I have to go back to school (bleh). Enjoy! ;))

Cas walked back into the dressing room to find his brothers, seated mostly as they had been before. He nervously evaluated their temperaments, trying to discern just how bad the fight had been. Baz and Luci were tuning their instruments, and they didn’t look up when Cas walked in. He suspected they were not tuning for the sake of improving their musical performance so much as to distance themselves from Michael, who was sullenly glaring at the two of them from behind a magazine. Gabe leapt to his feet when he saw Cas, crossing the floor hastily and forcing an unconvincing grin for his brother.

“Hey, little bro, where you been? I think you gave Chuck an aneurysm, he was worried you got kidnapped by a bunch of stalkery fans.” Cas could hear undertones of genuine worry in Gabriel’s voice, though whether that worry was over his brief disappearance or whatever had occurred between Luci, Baz, and Michael, Cas wasn’t sure.

“I was just...I was looking for a bathroom.” Cas’ response made him think of Dean. He then forced himself to stop thinking about Dean, and became horribly frustrated with himself as he immediately began thinking about Dean again. This all occurred in the instant before Gabe said,

“Well, you didn’t miss anything exciting. We just-” Gabe cut himself off as Michael’s magazine-shielded glare turned from Baz and Luci to him.

“No, continue, Gabe. What exactly _did_ we do? I’d love to hear your summary - I wonder how it differs from mine?” Michael’s voice broke Luci’s and Baz’s committed focus on their guitars. Cas noted how the two of them watched Gabe, anticipating his response. They were, Cas realized, waiting for Gabe to pick a side - and Gabe was quite obviously reluctant to do that.

Michael continued talking into the silence, intensifying the already-uncomfortable atmosphere. Cas found himself wishing he’d hidden in the hallway for longer. “From what I remember, you,” (here he directed a pointed glare at Gabe), “were displeased with me for attempting to defend a dear friend of all of ours,” (and here Cas wondered where Chuck had gotten to, and prayed that he’d return soon and diffuse this situation before they had to go back out on stage), “from your incessant jabs. You-” but Baz cut in.

“Honestly, Michael, was ‘defending’ Chuck _really_ what you were doing? Or were you nagging. Like you’re doing now. With no apparent purpose other than to assert the little influence you hold as the oldest child. Isn’t that right?”

“Are you insinuating that I am acting on some personal motive when I remind you to be good people? If I wasn’t here to keep you from being complete idiots, where would you be? It’s almost as if you’re all determined to cause as much trouble as you can...I don’t know why I even bother.”

“Yeah, neither do I.” Luci interjected. Michael stood up, turning to face him.

“And you’re the worst offender, Lucifer.” Luci smirked - it seemed he was taking that as a compliment, which only angered Michael further. “You traipse around onstage with your ridiculous guitar and act like you’re so much better than the rest of us, just because you were the favorite-”

“I was the _favorite_?! You do remember when I got _kicked out of the house!?”_

Gabe was watching the conversation with increasing distress evident on his face. Cas was retreating into his mental sandcastle, regretting not having dug himself a moat of some sort and trying his best not to take note of the tsunami developing not far offshore. Even Baz looked like this one was reaching territory in which he was not willing to offer up an opinion.

“If you think for one second that I ever meant to hurt you or any of the others,” Luci’s voice had dropped to a low, threatening whisper-hiss that was infinitely more terrifying than his almost-shout had been. “I will have you remember that I was only trying to help. I was trying to _fix_ things-”

“You think what you did was _helping_ , Lucifer?” Michael’s tone was slightly louder than his brother’s, but no less chilling. “Why would you even listen to a word he said? That worthless piece of shit left our family to rot. What made you think you had any right to let him back into our lives?” Luci was making a show out of being unphased by Michael’s words. He rolled his eyes, and Michael’s tone took on a new level of viciousness. “You weren’t doing what was ‘right’, Lucifer. You just wanted to be Daddy’s favorite - seeing as you were never good enough for anybody else.” Luci took a step back. Gabe and Cas met each others’ eyes - they knew that Michael had crossed a line, and they were petrified to see how Luci would react.

Lucifer stood, looking as if he had an infinite supply of scathing responses waiting behind his motionless expression. But he said nothing; instead, he walked over to his guitar case, slipped his instrument inside, and then strode out of the dressing room, leaving nothing but stunned silence in his wake.

\- - -

Dean found his way back to Sam, Charlie, and Jo fairly successfully - he only bumped into four different people because he wasn’t watching where he was going because he was thinking about excessively blue eyes and eyebrow piercings and the limitless possibilities that could spring from an unexpected meeting in a back hallway.

“ _There_ you are - we were starting to get worried you’d gotten yourself hauled away by security, trying to sneak in and meet the band.” Sam’s voice lurched Dean back into the present.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah, I just got a little lost.”

“You _sure_ you weren’t trying to get autographs?”

Dean considered thinking up a clever retort, but elected instead to share his good news. “There’ll be plenty of time for that after the show.” Sam’s expression changed so quickly from amused to ridiculously hopeful that Dean had to repress a laugh.

“Wait,” Jo said, her face mirroring Sam’s, “we’re _meeting_ them? How did you manage that?!”

“Well, there’s some photo thing going on after the show, and I uh,” Dean elected to keep the whole bumping-into-Cas-and-then-spending-the-ensuing-half-hour- envisioning-their-future-together thing out of the story for the time being. “There was a sign in the bathroom.” Dean watched his friends as their smiles grew gradually wider and wider, and he braced himself for the imminent expression of their excitement, knowing it would most likely take the form of several tackle-like hugs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS TOOK AGES AND I WONT PUT UP A BUNCH OF EXCUSES BECAUSE THATS LAME IM SORRY SORRY SORRY   
> HERE HAVE A SHITTON OF ANGELBROS ANGST

“Luci!” Cas and Gabe were dashing through the halls of the auditorium, their increasingly frantic shouts echoing after them. There were exactly two and a half minutes before they were expected to play the second half of their show, and Lucifer had yet to reappear.

Cas was panicking. Well, everyone was panicking - Chuck’s eyes appeared to have gotten stuck at maximum wide-ness, Balthazar had maintained a constant stream of angry profanity at anything and everything in his general vicinity, and Gabe, perhaps most unsettlingly, had not made a single sarcastic comment or in any way lightened the atmosphere with his usual humor. And Cas...Cas couldn’t help but feel that it was entirely his fault.

 

Growing up, the brothers had always had very clearly defined places in their family. Michael, as the oldest, took on the ‘man-of-the-house’ role and was revered by their mother and the citizens of Nowhere, Indiana alike as a golden child, a perfect example for young boys everywhere to follow. Cas wasn’t sure if Michael’s bossiness was a result of that attention or if it was inherent to his nature, but it was certainly an apparent aspect of his personality, and one that made itself especially prominent when he was at home with the other four. Michael loved to wedge himself into situations where he was not needed and to offer unwanted advice. However, any time one of his siblings sought him out to ask for an opinion or suggestion, Michael made himself inaccessible, citing work and responsibility as reasons why he couldn’t take the training wheels off Cas’ bike right now, and what did he _mean_ Gabe’s teacher didn’t like him - surely, Gabe was really the one at fault. Don’t bother me now, I’m busy.

And so Lucifer stepped in as the oldest brother, band-aiding scraped knees and advising Gabe and Baz and Cas on matters of school and girls, of friends and life in general. He was fiercely protective of his family - he had to be. There wasn’t anyone else to protect them; Michael was too focused on ensuring his reputation as a model citizen, and the boys’ mother…well, after everything with their dad, their mom was too dependent on her sons for them to rely in any way on her.

But Luci also had what Michael called in public a ‘rebellious streak’, and what he called in the privacy of their home a ‘series of desperate pleas for attention’. He’d gotten suspended once for beating up a kid who’d hurt Gabriel’s feelings, and he was regarded with nervous suspicion by all the adults in the neighborhood. A troublemaker, as the high school principal had remarked to his secretary while the both of them watched Luci slam the office door shut after his third visit there in as many days. And, since that same name was conveyed (albeit in more polite words) over the phone countless times to their mother, that’s what she saw him as.

Baz followed Luci’s example, much to Michael’s chagrin. Michael always resented Balthazar’s idolization of Lucifer over him, and feared that his other brothers shared Baz’s preference. And since Baz was only a year younger than his role model, they formed a sort of alliance against their eldest sibling.

And so quiet war waged between Clara Novak’s three oldest boys. Gabe and Cas remained blissfully unaware of it when it first began, when Michael was his junior year of high school and Luci and Baz were in the ninth and eighth grades, respectively. Gabe saw it first; he asked Cas tentative, carefully-worded questions in hopes that he also understood, but Cas, the fifth-grade baby of the family, still lived in a world governed by pretty assumptions. That’s when the recruitment attempts began. They had lasted to this day; both teams wanted Gabe to make a stand against the other. It happened to Cas too, when he eventually realized his own situation. By then, Gabriel had established himself as a peacekeeping party, though his lighthearted attempts only succeeded about half the time.  

So things had already been bad, and Cas had made it so, so much worse - he remembered the events of that night all too clearly…

_Eleven-year-old Cas stood outside the door to his brother’s room, doubting himself again. He almost turned away, retreated back to his room and the agony of not knowing, but then the door opened, and Lucifer stood in front of him, eyebrows raised._

_“Hey Cas. ‘Sup?” And then, when Cas had frozen, unable to say a word, stress and tears bubbling up inside of him, Lucifer had said, “Hey, Cas,” again, and this time his tone overflowed with concern and fear and solid determination to fix whatever was wrong with his baby brother._

_And so Cas had explained the curiosities that had slipped in between thoughts, his unwillingness to cope with being in the dark any longer: Cas wanted to know who his father was. Wanted to talk to him, to ask him why he’d gone - and maybe, just maybe, to bring him back._

_And Luci had delivered. Of course, he proceeded carefully, working always towards the family’s best interest. After a series of complicated internet searches and assistance from a hacking/surveillance professional named Frank, Lucifer had located the elusive Mr. Novak. He didn’t inform Cas of his discovery right away; rather, he took his time, talking to the man who’d abandoned him and evaluating whether or not it would benefit his family to allow him to return. And Lucifer had decided to give him a chance._

_Which had resulted in their distraught mother flinging a tissue box at the guy’s head and kicking both him and her second-oldest son out of her house for good._

_After that, Cas learned to keep his feelings tucked away behind walls of sand. He visited Lucifer in the shitty apartment he barely managed to rent on minimum-wage salary, and he saw that when he asked for things, when he asked for help, he damaged other people. People he loved. And it was a damage that he couldn’t undo, or help to heal; the guilt of having caused the damage masked his ability to be of any use in fixing his mistakes. Cas saw it when he went home and watched his mother cry over the man she thought she’d escaped, and again when he watched Michael’s grades drop, saw him lose countless opportunities due to the all-consuming duty of caring for his family._

_Cas hadn’t meant to hurt anyone - he’d only wanted to meet the man who skulked in the corners of his life, tainting it with his unwillingness to come out of hiding. Cas had just wanted to ask him_ why _. But he’d overturned a stone that concealed a nest of snakes, and it’d shown him that no truth was worth the potential pain it held. Better to hide. To build up defenses, and then repair them after they crumbled - as they were liable to do. Sand isn’t the most durable of materials._

  
The relief that washed over Cas when they found Luci, sitting in the wings with his guitar in hand, as though nothing had happened, did nothing to assuage the guilt he felt. But Cas forced a smile when his brother said, “Where have you been? We’ve got a gig to play.” And he went back out on the stage, and played his guitar, and told himself that everything would be okay. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy. Apologies for the hella late update. I am trash. Trash whose been writing two essays a week. blehhh. anyway: here y'all go. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is a Dean POV, by the way. just in case clarification was necessary. it probably wasnt.)

The roar of the crowd pressed on Dean’s ears as he waded through the pit, the mass of moving bodies around him trying and failing to sway his course as he pushed towards the stage. The show had ended, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make it to the front of the meet-and-greet line. Dean’s insides were wriggling - sort of like butterflies, if those butterflies had two-foot wingspans and had recently been injected with eight-espresso’s worth of caffeine. The truth of the matter was, Dean didn’t know what to expect at this thing. Yeah, he’d flirted with Cas, but who knew how serious the guy had been about it? It’s not like he could be expected to dive headfirst into a serious relationship; hell, Dean was feeling a little overwhelmed by just how willing he was to dive headfirst into a serious relationship. He hoped they could at least go out a couple of times, see what happened, but Cas was, (as Dean had been consistently reminding himself) practically famous. He was on tour. Even if he was interested in Dean, how practical was the situation, really?

But despite his worries, Dean pushed resolutely through the multitude of people headed for the exit. There was too much wonderful potential in this for him not to at least try and snag Cas’ phone number.

Dean found a clear path through the wall of bodies before him and took it, darting through groups of exhilarated fans, trying his best to see over their heads. When he finally reached the stage, he turned back and realized that his friends were not, as he had assumed, right behind him. Actually, they were nowhere to be seen. “Dammit,” he muttered, scanning the faces before him, pointedly ignoring the fact (for the sake of his own self-respect) that he was more concerned with the dwindling prospects of him being first in line to meet the band than the fact that his companions had been swallowed by the crowd.

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and saw that Sam had already texted him several times.

    10:15    (SW) -dean where are you

    10:17    (SW) -dean

    10:18    (SW) -deann

    10:19    (SW) -pick up your phone dammit

    10:20    (SW) -DEAN WHAT THE HELL

    10:20    (SW) -did you let your phone die again or did you just turn it off

                 (SW) -i swear to god if you let your phone die again

                 (SW) -how hard is it to plug it into the charger every other night

                 (SW) -jesus christ

    10:21    (SW) -SERIOUSLY WHERE ARE YOU

                 (SW) -did you lose your phone

                 (SW) -i bet you left it in the bathroom

                 (SW) -someones gonna steal it and hack into it

                 (SW) -your password is just 1234

                 (SW) -yeah i know your password are you really that surprised

                 (SW) -its the stupidest password ever

                 (SW) -its everyones first guess

                 (SW) -well now youre never gonna get your phone back

                 (SW) -whoever found it is probably laughing his ass off at these texts

Dean considered texting Sam back pretending to be a stranger who’d stolen his phone, but elected not to because his getting-to-the-front-of-the-line time window was all but elapsed.

    10:26            hey-                                     (DW)

                (SW) -WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN

                dude i thought u were with me-    (DW)

               (SW) -WELL I OBVIOUSLY WASNT

                dont get ur panties in a twist-       (DW)

                im by the stage-                           (DW)

                on the left-                                   (DW)

               (SW) -great

                that felt sarcastic-                        (DW)

               (SW) -it was

               (SW) -we’ll be there in a minute

Dean smirked at the phone. He leaned back against the wall behind him, jiggling his leg in apprehensive anticipation and glancing around every once in a while, looking for Sam.

Eventually, Dean saw a dark-haired head bobbing against the flow of people moving towards the exits, and he stood as Sam’s plaid-clad torso emerged, followed by Jo and Charlie. Upon seeing him, Sam’s strides lengthened (Dean was amused to see that Jo and Charlie had to jog a little to keep up), and when he reached Dean he stopped, made an incredible show of his annoyance with his brother through several vivid facial expressions, then said, “Finally. Now where are we meeting them?”

“I...I’m not exactly sure.” Sam leveled a gaze that could’ve wilted the healthiest of houseplants at Dean, who hurriedly continued. “But C-” Dean remembered that he’d been keeping his meeting with Cas from his friends, and swerved around the stupid mistake he’d been about to make. “It said they were doing photos.”

“Well, lets go look for them! There must be another sign around here somewhere...” The four of them wandered around the now-mostly-vacated auditorium, and after several minutes, concluded the search with unfavorable results. There were no signs to be found. Dean did his best to act mildly surprised - Cas had said that it was a pretty exclusive thing.

Sam then asked to see the original sign that Dean had seen, and Dean was fairly sure that Sam was beginning to suspect that the entire escapade was a poorly planned prank, so Dean led the others back into the hallway where he’d met Cas, hoping that they’d run into someonewho could direct them somewhere. The backstage hallways were narrow and dimly-lit, and it smelled vaguely of baby powder and alcohol.

“Uh, Dean,” Charlie said somewhat tentatively after they’d investigated four hallways and seen no signs of life. “Are you sure about this whole-” 

“Yeah, I’m sure!” Dean’s voice was rougher than he’d intended, and Charlie stopped talking after he cut her off. She and Sam exchanged a look, though Dean didn’t notice it; he was too preoccupied with finding the damn band. He was beginning to worry that maybe this meet-and-greet thing had been canceled, or was being held elsewhere...he’d gotten so excited about this, it had to happen. It had to. About five minutes later, he heard the shouting.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the long wait between updates. We've already established that I am the absolute worst at sticking to my own deadlines. Erm, this one starts with Cas' POV and then switches to Dean. Hope you like it! ;))

“ Michael, will you please shut your goddamn mouth for one second?! ” Lucifer’s yell eclipsed his older brother’s haranguing, which had started seconds after the band had left the stage and continued up to this point. The topic of the lecture was Luci’s disappearance and last-minute reappearance, and it included such endearingly passive aggressive statements as ‘we were all  so  worried about you’, ‘think of how devastated the fans would be if we had had to cancel part of the show’, and ‘such a childish response, Lucifer; honestly, if you can’t learn to deal with your anger-’ (that one had been cut off by Luci’s outburst). 

 

Michael opened his mouth to make a retort, but Luci got there first. “No, Michael. It’s my turn to talk. I know what you’re going to say anyway; you’re terribly predictable. ‘Lucifer, I am so incredibly disappointed in your behavior. You’re supposed to set an example for your brothers because god forbid we recognize them as the adults they are and let them make their own damn choices. Blah, blah blah.’ There’d be a charming bit about how devastated Mother will be when she hears about my acting out, and an all-too-obvious guilt trip where you’ll somehow manage to bring up the fact that I was the one who brought Dad home and screwed us all over. You never did let that one go, huh?” 

 

Luci emitted a sick little laugh, one Cas knew to mean that his brother was beyond furious, and getting angrier. “No, I was always the fuck-up. Always the reason why Baz sassed his teachers and Gabe stole candy from the vending machines and hell, I’m the reason why Cas can’t have an argument without breaking down like a shitty dam during flood season, lets pin that one on me too!” Luci’s words were pouring uncontrollably from his lips, taking on a sing-song quality that, combined with his over-wide eyes, made him look more than a little insane. It was disturbing to watch; Luci was usually so calm and collected, his mockeries delivered nonchalantly with a stingingly indifferent glance. Now, though, his emotions had overridden that tendency, and the things he was saying...Cas knew they weren’t meant to hurt  him , but that didn’t keep the words from crashing like waves over his mental sandcastle, turning windows to shapeless gouges and dragging portions of the walls out to sea.

 

“Michael, I know what you think of me; what you  all  think of me.” There was that laugh again; it was reckless and desperate, the laugh of a man who has given up on caring and being cared for. “You think I’m a bad influence. I’ve always done my best to take care of you - don’t look at me like that, you didn’t even  try  to care, Michael - but, no matter what I do, the end result is the same in your eyes: I always mess up and ruin everything. I understand that now.

“I disappeared after that argument so I could think without having to listen to or look at you and your stupid face, and I have come to a decision: you’re all better off without me, and, more importantly, I’m better off without you. And so I’m leaving.” The words echoed around the small room, though perhaps the echoing was entirely in Cas’ head; his sandcastle had just collapsed under the weight of his brothers’ announcement, crumpling in a defeated  whoosh  of salty water. And though Cas wasn’t crying, his eyes felt hot and dry and his breath was hitching in his chest because  oh God if he’d just tried to settle things between the two of them then none of this would have happened ...

 

Balthazar and Gabe were both talking at once. Michael, for once, had been stunned into total silence. Cas was panicking. He couldn’t  breathe  in this room - it was tiny, and it seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, and he  had to get out - his feet were moving suddenly, he was staggering towards the exit and his heart was fluttering in his chest at a rate that couldn’t be safe; he needed space he needed air he needed to regain the feeling in his fingers, which were inexplicably numb. He heard a voice he didn’t recognize saying, ‘Maybe this is a bad-’ and then he collided with something solid and plaid in the doorway. He crashed backwards onto the floor, and suddenly everything was deathly quiet. Cas’ breaths were coming faster and faster; his head felt empty and the room was spinning around him. Sounding as though it were coming from the bottom of a well, Balthazar’s accusatory tones floated through Cas’ mind: ‘Who the fuck are  you ?’ But the words were lost on Cas, whose vision was darkening around the edges. 

 

There were people around him; he thought he might have slipped out of consciousness for a moment there, but it was hard to hold onto that thought. Voices swirled, more frantic now, and Cas thought he caught the phrase ‘panic attack’, but he couldn’t be sure. He was spiraling downwards, like not only his sandcastle but he himself had been swept out to sea, and he was drowning…

 

And then his field of vision was enveloped in green, and there were strong hands on his shoulders and a singular name was shoving its way through Cas’ sluggish brain. The moment it broke free was the moment Cas felt a pair of lips pressed against his:  Dean . 

 

\- - -

Oh. Shit. He’d kissed him. Shit shit. Shitshitshit. That - that was a bad idea. Why had he kissed him?! Dean could feel the shocked eyes of the entire room on him, but he ignored them. He was also ignoring the corner of his mind that was simultaneously cheering and holding its breath in shocked amazement at how damn  good that kiss had been. He felt a blush rising rapidly to his cheeks and was considering running for it, but then he heard Cas’ breaths slow back to a normal rate. His eyes were open, fixed on Dean’s, but they were no longer the trapped, terrified eyes of a cornered animal; they were reverting to their usual, gorgeous ( nope. Do not think gorgeous, what is  wrong  with you, Winchester? ) state. 

The kiss had actually worked. Cas was settling down.

 

“What - what just happened?” Cas was looking at Dean for an answer, and Dean was wondering how on earth he was going to explain himself when Sam stepped in to rescue him. 

 

“You had a panic attack.” 

 

Cas was quiet for a moment. “You were what I ran into, weren’t you?”

 

Sam nodded his acquiescence, smiling a bit. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. I’m Sam. This is my brother, Dean.”    


 

Cas smiled. “Yes. Dean. We met before.” Sam, Jo, and Charlie rounded in synchronized disbelief to look questioningly at Dean, who returned their gazes with a weak smile. “And,” Cas added, sounding confused, “you...kissed me?”

 

“Um, well, I- I’m sorry, I just, um, you were freaking out and I was freaking out because you were freaking out and I just sort of- it felt like-” 

 

“It’s okay. You helped me out of that...whatever that was-”

 

“Panic attack.” Gabe added helpfully. “That’s what the moosey one said.” Sam looked rather affronted at being referred to as ‘moosey’. Baz stepped out from behind his brother. 

 

“Now,” he said, “this has been lovely - truly beautiful, I must say, bravo to each and every one of you on your passionate displays of emotion - but I think it’s time you explain exactly  what  the hell  you think you’re doing here?” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I'm a lazy, unmotivated trashcan, but I did it. I finished this. Sorry it's sort of short..but thank you all so much for reading and commenting; you're all amazing. Enjoy!

The car ride home was startlingly normal after the chaos that was supposed to have been nothing more than a concert. It was, Dean thought, one of the best nights of his life. Maybe _the_ best night of his life. But that would depend in what happened in the following days.

Jo and Charlie had fallen asleep on each other in the back seat, and Sam was dozing, earbuds in and eyes half-closed, in the passenger seat next to him. He rolled the window down, deja vu flashing momentarily through his mind from a moment earlier that day, when he’d fantasized about meeting Cas. Dean laughed to himself, still not quite able to believe that it had actually happened. Crazy chance encounters like the one he'd just had only happened in fanfiction (which he would not in a million years admit to reading).

Dean settled into the last dregs of post-concert traffic and pulled out his phone. The first leg of the journey home had been fraught with indignant demands for explanation, and blatant disbelief on everyone’s part that they had not only met the band, but witnessed Luci’s declaration of his new solo career. And Dean had _kissed_ Cas.

After Dean had embarrassedly explained to Baz and the others that he’d been told there were group photos happening post-concert, the collective glares of the group had turned on Cas. Who then embarrassedly explained to his feet that he’d made the entire thing up to see Dean again.

But it had all ended up alright. Better than alright - it had ended up friggin’ fantastic. Sam got everyone’s autographs and Charlie took selfies with everybody and Jo and Luci got into a heated debate about whether Baz or Gabe would hit on Sam first. As for Dean and Cas… after a few minutes of awkward silence, their conversation started up again. And the best part, Dean thought, as he stared down through the blue-ish backlighting of the screen of his phone, was the new addition to his contacts list and Cas’ quiet promise to call.

**Author's Note:**

> Okee dokee, if y'all like this, then I'll post more. ;) Many thanks to my glorious editor, Destiel_Fics.


End file.
